


Talisman

by yelp



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Hiruma is a vampire, Mamori is a vampire slayer, Minor Character Death, Sena is... Sena does his best, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelp/pseuds/yelp
Summary: Quiet, obscure, and with zero other vampire presence, he'll have his pick of victims. Looks like Hiruma's found himself the perfect new town to call home.Problem? Turns out his lack of competition is thanks to the work of one tireless hunter. No doubt she'll be coming for him next.
Relationships: (implied) Hiruma Youichi/Kobayakawa Sena, Anezaki Mamori/Hiruma Youichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Talisman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokence/gifts).



> When I saw that your likes included both vampires and Eyeshield 21, I simultaneously thought, "Yes, this is very much in my wheelhouse," and, "No way, I have no idea how to make this happen." Regardless, this somehow got written, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The end notes contain content warnings!

Yeah, in hindsight, Sena shouldn't have answered that doorbell. 

It didn't do him much good to realize that now. But he really shouldn't have. 

Lately, Mamori had taken to walking him home at night, making offhand comments like, "Things are getting dangerous around here."

Whatever that meant, it filled Sena with a squirmy embarrassment, because that was supposed to be his job, wasn't it? To walk _her_ home? 

Tonight, she had not only dropped him off at the door, but seen him safely inside, where he'd fallen into the mindless routine of putting away his backpack, filling the water bowl for Pit, checking for messages from his parents. (None.) When the door chimed, not a few minutes later, Sena figured she'd forgotten something, and opened it without a second thought. 

The creature waiting for him on the doorstep was not Mamori, that was obvious.

It wasn't even human. 

It was some kind of giant, unrealistically enormous, wolf of a dog. Its silver coat of fur shone under the streetlamps outside, sleek enough that he could see the curves of muscle rippling underneath, shifting and bunching as it paced in place. Its massive head came up to his chest, and was sniffing slowly at his shirt, as if drinking the scent of him out of the air with thick, heavy huffs of breath.

For a long, panicked second, Sena stood frozen, staring into those intelligent yellow eyes, perched over a long, pointed muzzle. There was an old scar cutting across its snout, dividing those eyes and that muzzle. He could hear its breathing, a near-growl building in its chest, and panting raggedly from its parted maw, like it had run all the way here. 

Then he wheezed out something like, "Sorry, wrong address," and tried to shut the door again.

His attempted movement broke the spell. The wolf sprang forward in an instant, easily shouldering past the closing door; Sena might as well have been trying to shut it out with a curtain. Its jaw snapped an inch from Sena's throat, so close that its fur brushed against his face, so loud that he thought for a moment he was already dead. He was washed with the stench of its hot breath, vision filled with shining white canines, the glistening red grapefruit insides of its mouth, and somehow the terror spurred Sena into motion, and he managed to scramble backwards into the house, just dodging a second bite. Scuttling on all fours, Sena was too terrified to even scream, just turned, pushed himself up from his palms, and ran full tilt toward the staircase, and the doorway to the kitchen. 

Which way? 

Could wolves climb stairs? 

Was Pit in the kitchen?

He made the mistake of glancing behind him, didn't see anything, and turned himself all the way around searching. 

And that was all the hesitation it took for the wolf to careen into him from the side. 

It felt like he'd been barreled over by a hot, furry brick wall. He landed flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, head ringing where it struck the floor. He never made it to the stairs or the kitchen at all. 

Looming over him, the wolf looked even bigger, almost shining white in the light of his home. Crushed under furnace heat of the monster's body, its massive front paws would have easily held him by weight alone, but still it dug in, claws shredding through his school uniform, tearing into him as much as they pinned him in place. Prey secured, it was in no hurry, as it lowered its jaw to his shoulder and tore a leisurely, agonizing bite out of him. 

Sena screamed. 

The white hot pain overwhelmed all his senses. He'd already told himself not to struggle, but his body wasn't listening, it was writhing fruitlessly against the beast, arms trying to push the sturdy front paws off him and not budging them an inch, legs flailing to no avail.

Over its bent-over head, he thought he saw a figure in the still-open doorway: a slim man dressed all in black, leaning against the doorframe with a casualness that didn't make any sense. How could he be so calm when Sena was being torn apart by a monster right in front of him? Why would he just stand there and watch? 

The wolf lowered its head for another bite, and Sena screamed again, in terror and desperation, but the figure in the doorway didn't shift, and that grin didn't falter. He was mouthing something now, something Sena couldn't make out. 

"Help me," Sena begged, thrashing himself lightheaded. "Please—"

The figure motioned to himself, and then into the house, still mouthing. What? 

"Invite—me—"

Blood and spittle dripped from the wolf's jaws, falling into Sena's face, and he half sobbed, half shrieked, "Come in!"

Before he had even finished speaking, the figure was upon them, a swift black blur faster than the eye could follow. The wolf was plucked from Sena's body, snarling and flailing, as if it was no heavier than a stuffed animal, and then tossed with a weightless ease belied by the solid crash of its impact against the far wall. There it slid to the ground, leaving a dark streaking imprint in the plaster, and lay still for a long moment. When it finally staggered to all four feet, it was growling and unsteady. It shook itself once, glowered at them, and loped out the door. 

Sena tried to feel relief, but the world was spinning around him. He thought he'd fall over, until he remembered which way was down, and that the floor was already there.

And in the opposite direction was that dark, grinning figure standing over him, and even with Sena's failing vision, he could tell that the man's gaze was fixed on the blood seeping out of his chest and shoulder, red-rimmed pupils blown wide and hungry.

It wasn't like Sena didn't know what this was, what he'd invited into his home.

It just seemed like it would have been polite to at least _pretend_ he wasn't staring, feasting on Sena's dying body with his eyes, in preparation for doing so with his mouth. 

The vampire knelt over him, taking the place of the wolf, knees on either side of his waist, hands instead of paws on the torn, bloody shreds of his shirt and chest. He touched the claw marks there, and then whatever mangled mess the wolf had left of Sena's shoulder. Then he put his bloody fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, like it was a treat. 

"You want to live?" 

There might have been tears rolling down Sena's cheeks as he nodded, but he was too numb to feel them. Of course he did, but even he could tell he didn't have long left. In the distance, an eerie howl picked up, and was echoed by other voices. It was getting cold in the room, unearthly cold, but he didn't even have the strength left to shiver.

The vampire lifted his own wrist to his mouth and, without breaking eye contact, bit into it. In the movies, vampires had those elegant, slender fangs, leaving precise, delicate, double pinprick bites. But this vampire's mouth was nothing _but_ fang, and he tore his wrist open in a big bloody gash, then held the gushing wound to Sena's lips.

"Then fucking live," he said. "Drink."

Sena almost didn't have the strength to. The wrist was pressed against his mouth, and still the vampire had to pull his lips open, and all but smear the blood in. A trickle met his tongue, and he weakly swallowed it down, and then another mouthful, until he was grasping the wrist, holding it in place as he swallowed and swallowed.

Throughout it all, the hands, and the blood, were both as cold as death. 

***

"Don't you think that's enough jam, Sena?"

"Oh..." Sena looked down in surprise, as if he hadn't noticed his toast sagging under the assault. "I... guess so." He set down his knife, and put a corner of the laden toast into his mouth. The strawberry smeared all over his lips, giving him a bloody look, and Mamori sighed, automatically pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth as he chewed. 

"What's going on with you today, Sena?" She'd come over to find him not even awake, and had to drag him out of bed. Now he was leisurely munching on his breakfast as if he didn't have a care in the world. "We're going to be late to school."

"Hmm." Unconcerned, Sena took another big bite of jam-with-scrap-of-toast, again getting it everywhere. 

Mamori took a closer look. "And is that your backup uniform? What happened to your other one?"

"Hmm," Sena said again, like he was still asleep. "I think I ripped it?"

She checked her wristwatch. "If you'd told me earlier, I could have mended it, but now it'll have to wait. Come on, we have to go."

Sena stuffed the last of the toast in his mouth, and obediently followed Mamori out the door, squinting against the light. The Kobayakawa family cat, who had been bathing in the sun out front, took one look at Sena, and ran back, yowling, into the house. Odd.

"Did you even study for the test?" Mamori said as they walked, relieved they were finally starting to make progress. "It was the circulatory system today, right? I still remember that from last year. Do you need me to quiz you on the way?"

Sena made another dazed sound. "I think I'm okay."

"Seriously, your head is up in the clouds today. What is it? Did you meet a girl? You can tell me, you know." If she thought the teasing would break him out of it, she was disappointed to receive only another muzzy look in return.

"I had a weird dream, I think," he said. "I probably studied too much. About the... platelets. And. All that."

After that, Mamori gave up on conversation. She left him at the door of his homeroom, and watched him go a little wistfully. They grew up so fast, she thought. But she should have expected he'd hit that phase eventually. She only hoped it didn't distract him too much from his schoolwork. 

***

Student council kept Mamori busy until almost dinner time, so she couldn't walk Sena home. On her own way back, she felt a twinge of worry, but he didn't have any after-school activities on Wednesdays, and not much could have happened to him, walking home in broad daylight. She sent him a quick text asking how his exam had gone, and watched her phone for a response while she fixed herself a light meal. Then it was time for patrol.

Sena was far from her only worry these days. There had been a lot more supernatural activity around town lately, and she hadn't yet figured out the cause. She had found a couple of dead animals drained of blood—two rabbits and a deer—but she'd run the last vampires out of town months ago, and she couldn't believe they would have come back so soon.

Still, it couldn't hurt to check out their favorite old haunts. First stop: a poorly lit alleyway linking two busy streets. Though it was secluded, dark, and obviously bad news, some hapless pedestrian always ended up using it as a shortcut. A smart monster would know that, and lurk here, waiting for victims. A smart monster hunter, if she did say so herself, would know _that_ , and lurk here, waiting for monsters. 

Sure enough, when she got to the lip of the alleyway, it was just in time to see a shadow disappear around the corner.

"Hey!" she called, hurrying her step, and pulled the heavy duty flashlight from her purse, taking some comfort in its familiar heft in her palm. Couldn't people just take the five minutes to go the long way around? Why did they always seem intent on walking to their doom?

She shone the flashlight into the alley, and was relieved to see the figure hadn't gotten far yet. "Hey!" she called again, "it's not safe—"

Then the figure turned, and Mamori gasped. "Sena? What are you doing here? You should be at home!"

Sena looked at her blankly. It was just enough time for Mamori to register that there was something really, really wrong. 

Then a hand fell on his head, and another figure detached itself from the brick wall of the alley. In the harsh beam of the flashlight, he was washed out: pale and gaunt, spiky hair bleached a light, sickly blond. He made no pretenses; seeing her, he immediately flashed a broad grin, baring his fangs for her to see.

"Vampire," she hissed, pulling a crucifix out of her purse, intending to throw it to Sena. With any luck, it was a younger vampire, still weak to these signs, and just the proximity would scare him off.

"A talisman?" said the vampire, tilting his head at a sharp, unnatural angle. "That's cute, hunter, but I have a talisman of my own." And he cradled Sena's chin, gently, and grinned at her. 

Before she could say anything, he moved his hand in a preternatural blur, curving his thumbnail over his own face in a sharp, gouging swipe. Where the nail passed, his cheek split open and bled, from prominent cheekbone nearly down to his chin. Under the beam of the flashlight, Mamori watched an identical cut open on Sena's cheek, carved by an invisible blade. 

Sena cried out, and moved sluggishly to cover it, but the vampire shifted the arm slung over his shoulder, stopping him in place. "No, pet, let her see. Let your guardian see just how well she's protected you."

Turning Sena's face by the chin, the vampire bent down and, without breaking eye contact with her, began to lick away the blood. Where his undead tongue swiped, the skin healed, until he'd lapped the whole thing clean: blood, cut, and all.

Then, without preamble, he lifted Sena up by the hips. Though his frame wasn't much bigger than Sena's, he was stronger than he looked; Sena sat easily on his bent arm, like a bird on a perch.

Sena's eyes fixed on the blood on his face, and when the vampire pushed his head in, latched on to the bloody cheek, and began to suckle on it greedily.

The sight made her sick, but she wouldn't allow herself to lower the flashlight, or look away. She couldn't afford to let this vampire out of her sight for a second. Not if she was going to drive a stake through his cold, dead heart. 

"What do you want?" she said, as Sena finished drinking, and rested his head against the vampire's shoulder. 

"No easy way to say this." The vampire gave a pained smile over Sena's head. "I need your help."

"Help?" Mamori scoffed. "That's not what I planned to give you." She flipped the cross in her hand, so that she gripped the point sharpened into its base: easy striking position. It would've worked as a ward in Sena's hands, yes, but it would serve just fine as a stake in hers.

"You don't want to kill me," said the vampire patiently. He was very wrong about that point. "We're connected. If I die, he dies."

"Then release him," Mamori said, through gritted teeth.

"Werewolves," the vampire said. "There's a pack that's been bothering me, followed me all the way here. Get rid of them for me, and I'll release him. That's your job anyway, isn't it? To kill monsters?"

"You're right." Mamori took a small step closer. He didn't step back. Either he was over-confident, or she was. She'd soon find out which. "I kill monsters. I don't bargain with them. How do I know you'd even keep your word?"

"It's your only fucking option," the vampire said bluntly, and touched Sena on the temple. 

Sena blinked, shook his head. When he looked up at Mamori, there was a heartbreaking confusion in his eyes. 

"Mamori?" he said. "What's going on?"

Her resolve crumbled. It was a obviously a trick, but Sena was right there, and he was so scared. "Don't worry, Sena," Mamori said. "Everything is okay. Can you come here? Can you get away from him?"

Sena turned his head, and seemed surprised to find himself in someone else's arms, held up by a deceptively slender body. "Hiruma?" he said. Then he leaned his head back in, slumping his whole body against the vampire's chest, like he'd been molded for it. "Why would I want to get away from him?"

It felt like a stake through Mamori's own heart, but she forced herself not to react. "I do this for you," she said to the vampire, "and you release your hold on him completely." 

"One hundred fucking percent," said Hiruma, setting Sena down on his feet. Sena wobbled, and reached out, not for Mamori to steady him, but for the vampire instead. "I won't steal another sip. Delicious as he is." 

He was trying to rattle her, she knew that. She tried to ignore it, desperately wracked her brain for another way. But it was _Sena_.

"I don't kill werewolves," she stalled. "I have a friend who's a werewolf. They're not monsters. Not like you."

Hiruma looked taken aback. With a flickering motion, like the sharp slide of shadow, he appeared at Mamori's side. Only long-honed reflexes allowed her to snap up the crucifix between them, but he just leaned around it, with the smallest of winces, and pressed his face to her hair, inhaling deeply. 

"Oh, her." He backed up quickly, when she turned the point of the stake on him. "She's a fucking baby, that one, of course she's more human than animal. No, these weres I'm talking about, they've been around much, much longer than that, their humanity a distant memory. Their victims' bodies will be turning up around here soon. What's left of them, anyway." He gave Sena a significant look, one that Mamori couldn't parse. "Go see for yourself, if you want to make sure. Trust me, once you know what they get up to, you won't have any qualms about taking them out."

Trust him? Not likely. But still she pressed, "And then you'll release Sena."

"I'll release him," Hiruma smirked, and wrapped his long fingers around the crucifix and her hand both, just to show he could.

"Cross my fucking heart."

***

Mamori insisted on walking Sena home. She was reluctant to leave him alone even then, but she couldn't exactly camp out on his doorstep, stake in hand.

"I want you to stay away from that Hiruma," she said, checking his neck one more time, in the yellow light of his kitchen. She didn't see a mark on him, but that didn't mean anything. The cut that had split open his cheek was also gone now. Even sliding her thumb over his skin turned up no trace.

Sena bore with the inspection as long as he could, and then shook out of her grasp, so he could return to the homework laid out on the kitchen island. "Why?" he said absently, uncapping his highlighter. "He helped me. I trust him."

Hiruma had probably put him under some kind of trance, to make him more... pliable. She hadn't had to deal with too many victims of vampires before—living ones, at least—but it wouldn't have surprised her one bit, if that was how they worked. Instead of responding, she made her way around the room, subtly checking the locks on the windows, rattling the panes.

"Hiruma said... he said that you have another life, one that I don't know about. What did he mean by that?"

In the process of tucking a spare cross behind a curtain, Mamori froze guiltily. "I... I just try to keep the streets safe. From monsters. Like him."

"Does that make you like... a superhero, then?" he said. 

A startled blush found its way to her cheeks. "I wouldn't put it like that—"

"That's what Hiruma said," Sena continued blithely, scratching a long yellow highlight into his book. "You fight monsters, and save people."

The warmth was replaced with a sudden chill. To realize that Sena was still under Hiruma's influence was like a sharp, cold slap of reality. "Don't listen to a word out of that monster's mouth," she said sternly. 

"But," Sena floundered, then repeated, "I trust him."

Mamori forced herself not to react to that in any way. She wasn't going to win this argument by getting emotional, and she needed to win this argument. "Do you trust _me_?" she said. With his parents often absent, she'd been taking care of him since they'd met. She'd helped him with his schoolwork, protected him from bullies, even taken care of him when he was sick. She didn't even know what she'd do with herself, if the answer was no—

"Of course I do, Mamori." Sena put down his highlighter, and frowned at her. "You know I do."

"Then stay away from him! Don't go anywhere by yourself at night. Don't get caught in dark spaces alone. And whatever you do, if he shows up here, don't invite him in."

"Oh..." The guilty shift of his eyes told her all she needed to know.

"Sena!" she gasped. "You didn't."

"I was... I didn't have any choice." A sudden clarity came to his eyes, like a repressed memory resurfacing—and with it, panic. "I was... I was so scared. I was sure I was going to die. Like I said, he saved my life."

"What? What happened?" 

Sena pushed away from the table to stare out of the kitchen, towards the foyer. She followed his gaze, but couldn't see anything. Unless—was that a new rug? "It was this wolf, Mamori. This huge wolf. It was biting me, it was going to kill me. Hiruma stopped it. And he... I..." Sena touched his lips, confused. 

"I see." She was going to have to look into this werewolf pack after all. "I've never seen a werewolf around here. And all of a sudden, one comes to your house? And attacks you? Here? Something doesn't add up."

Sena shrugged. "I'm just lucky Hiruma was there too."

Mamori shook her head. "If there's anything I've learned, dealing with the undead—there's no such thing as a coincidence."

***

Hiruma landed on the roof in a crouch, one hand extended to brace his fall. The rooftop was still warm from baking in the sun all day; it wasn't quite dusk yet, and the sunlight was uncomfortable, but it had been many centuries since he'd feared it. It was more important, he thought, to follow the hunter on her rounds.

He still couldn't tell if she was going to go after the Misaki werewolves or not. Her devotion to the kid was undeniable, but would she play along, or would she try to find a way around it?

He'd watched her stake out the pack a few times, so she knew by now they were worth hunting. She'd even seen some of the aftermath of their victims, though she hadn't been in time to save any of them. By all rights, she should want to hunt them anyway, according to what he knew about her. But humans were brief and unpredictable. After only a decade or two of life, she wouldn't have had time yet to set in her ways. That meant anything was possible. 

Even her night-time activities were erratic. Today she'd started even before dusk, and was wandering around the edges of town, when normally she checked the populous areas, where victims were more likely to be. She was getting a little too far from the dense urban sprawl for him to follow from the rooftops, as he preferred. Could she be aware of her tail, and trying to lose him?

There was an old church up ahead that she might have been heading for, or its adjacent graveyard. Unlucky for her, there was a group of skinwalkers presently picking through the graves, looking for something fresh to wear. For a given definition of fresh. Hiruma amused himself with the thought that she might run into them, trying to lose him. Then he saw that she really was heading right for the graveyard, and swore softly to himself. 

Without thinking, he dove from the building, briefly extending his wings to slow his fall. He tucked them away when he'd gotten his footing—running with them was a pain. Without his aerial view, he had to rely on scent alone to track her, but it wasn't hard, especially when there came a spike of adrenaline and exertion from up ahead. 

Hiruma increased his pace, and caught sight of her just as the three walkers closed in. He paused to see what supernatural powers she had at her disposal, but instead she just jammed her stake into one of their chests, and was grabbed by another, who promptly attempted to peel the skin from her face.

"They're not fucking vampires," Hiruma snarled, exasperated, and ran out, pulling the creature off of her, and snapping its neck. In all fairness, being stabbed through the heart would hurt most things, and the skinwalker she'd stabbed was bleeding out green ichor where it lay in the dirt. But that wouldn't cut it for werewolves.

Mamori whirled to face him, without so much as a thank you. She had that same flashlight from yesterday in hand, and she swung it at him. Way too slow—Hiruma slid back out of the way, only to see that she had been aiming for the third skinwalker after all, clobbering it over the head with a crunch. It had been a solid strike, and the flashlight was a hefty one, but it wasn't enough. Hiruma stepped on the fallen demon's neck without even looking at it, pinning it in place. He was too busy staring at the hunter, incredulous.

"Are you—?" He stopped, shook his head. It just couldn't be.

"What?" she snapped. She hadn't lost her fighting stance, and was holding her stake at the ready.

"Are you really just a fucking human?" he said. "No super strength? No powers? How the fuck do you hunt these things?"

That wasn't what she'd been expecting. She drew back warily, but relaxed her hold on the stake. Hiruma's gaze zeroed in on it, and he couldn't help but think that it was the only opening he'd need, if he intended to harm her here. Regardless of everything, she was still too trusting. 

"I study," she said primly, digging out a handkerchief, and wiping the point of the stake. "I learn your weaknesses. I use them against you."

"Every time you come out here, you're one fucking step from death," Hiruma said, shaking his head. The walker under his boot was struggling to get up, and he stomped down on its neck without missing a beat, crunching it under his boot. "How you're still alive, I have no fucking clue. What the fuck, woman."

Mamori looked offended. "I'm all this town has," she said. "Feeling a little injured pride, that you had to ask _just a human_ for help?"

"Just wondering if you're really going to be able to handle it," Hiruma shook his head. "You won't take out a werewolf with a wooden stake. Or a fucking flashlight."

"I don't fight with stakes, or flashlights," she said, tucking these things back into her bag. "I fight with my brain. And for your information, I already have a plan."

"We'll see," he snorted, turning to leave.

"Thanks, by the way," she said from behind him, so quiet and unexpected that he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "You didn't have to jump in."

Hiruma didn't respond. Her thanks had made him uncomfortably aware of what he'd done. 

It had never been his intention to help her at all. 

***

"It's going to be tonight," she told him, a few days later, which was sooner than he'd expected.

They were meeting in the public library, of all places. She had a study room booked, and the librarians all greeted her by name on their way in. Sitting across from her, he could smell blood on her hands, and it was maddening—but he wouldn't show it, wouldn't ask. 

"About time," said Hiruma, to cover his hunger.

"Just tell me one thing, before I go." She had a stack of books in front of her, and she absently shifted them, neatening the corners. "Why did the werewolves attack Sena? And why did they show up right when you did? This town was quiet before you came."

She gave him a challenging look, all but expecting him to lie. Hiruma hated to do what was expected of him. 

"My clan is looking for a new place to live. This town was going to be ours, just bad luck the wolves settled on it at the same time." If he omitted the history between the pack and his clan, that wasn't really a lie. Too much information would just confuse her. "We both decided the biggest threat to our existence here was the hunter. You. We just went about neutralizing it in different ways." 

"Them by trying to hurt Sena, you by trying to protect him?" Mamori said, skeptically. 

"Something like that." Hiruma's eyes shifted. Time for a change of topic. He pulled the jewelry box from his jacket pocket, and slid it across the table at her. "I got you something. A fucking talisman, if you will."

Suspicion wrinkled her brow, but she opened it nonetheless. "Isn't this a little on-the-nose?" she said when she saw it: a silver, bat-shaped charm, wings tucked around it in sleep, dangling from a silver chain. 

"Appropriate, right? Practical, too." To his complete lack of surprise, she didn't allow him to put it on her, instead drawing the clasp around to her front, so she could do it herself. When she lifted her hands, he could see that they were marred with a number of scratches, like she'd been plucking bramble, but still he refused to ask.

She settled the pendant in place, so that it hovered charmingly over her clavicle. Hiruma gave a token effort of pretending he was admiring it, rather than staring at her throat. 

She noticed, and the atmosphere changed in a second. "I don't know what kind of relationship you have with Sena, but I want you to stay away from him."

What a jump, thought Hiruma. Humans were so possessive, their lifespans so unbearably short, they had to resort to monogamy. 

"What kind of relationship do you think we have?" he said, leering at her until she looked away.

"If something happens to me today, will you still honor your promise?"

"The wolves for the boy," Hiruma said. "That's the promise. Whether or not you die, that's not a factor." She could take comfort in that, or not, as she chose.

"Then I'll kill those wolves," she determined, getting to her feet. "Are you coming?"

The windows of the library had been tinted, which meant that when Hiruma pushed outdoors into sunlight, it was jarringly unexpected. It had been overcast when he'd arrived, but the winds had knocked the clouds away, leaving a bright and sunny day. Just perfect. He managed to hold back an aggravated hiss, but it didn't escape the hunter's notice. Without a word, Mamori took an umbrella from her purse, and handed it over. 

"The forecast said rain today," she said, at his questioning stare. Terrifyingly efficient, that woman.

Hiruma put up the umbrella, ignoring the weird looks it drew him, and followed her the few blocks to the Misaki wolves' house. Was that why she'd chosen to meet at the library, for its proximity? The place was blandly normal, a squat, cozy house in a squat, cozy neighborhood. The pack was really trying to blend in with the humans this time around.

As Mamori made her way towards it, an actual human, Hiruma had the sudden thought that she'd never make it back out. But that was the point, right?

For a second, he hesitated, her name on his lips—but in the end, he didn't stop her.

There was no sense in doing that now.

***

The plan almost worked. 

The werewolves' backyard opened up into the woods; Mamori had seen the whole pack bounding into it more than once, baying at the moon, out for blood. An ancient oak tree near the edge of their property made good climbing, and more importantly, she'd spent all morning wrapping it with wire. It was a tough silver alloy that she'd wound densely around its bark, threaded through its branches, until her hands were red and raw—all while the wolves were glutted from their recent hunt, and soundly slept. 

On her way up the tree, she checked her work, and then settled into her chosen perch. In her preparations, she'd cut a couple other branches out of the way, ensuring a clear line of sight on the back of the house, the yard, the path towards her. There should be another couple of hours before they came out for their next hunt, but she believed in getting in position early. Besides, if the wind turned, they might smell her, and come to investigate, in smaller numbers. 

As she settled in to wait, she spared a thought for what she'd do after this. If there was an "after this". Even if her plan went without a hitch, even if she eliminated this pack of admitted monsters, there was yet another monster she had to deal with.

Hiruma was clearly ancient. Crosses didn't bother him, and sunlight barely did. Even if he held up his end of the bargain (unlikely), she would need to have a plan for if he started killing next, as he inevitably would. She hadn't found any human bodies drained yet, but that didn't mean anything—

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she almost missed it when the back door opened, and the first werewolf emerged: a white-haired man with a scar running across the bridge of his nose. Others had called him Kamiya, and he seemed to be the leader of the pack, but in human form, he was hardly intimidating. Despite his white hair, he had a young, boyish face, and was a small, slight figure, not much taller than Sena, really. He sniffed the air around him, and then looked straight up at her. And grinned. 

Well. 

Mamori cocked her rifle, breathing deeply. She wouldn't have much time to reload, so she had to make each silver bullet count. As the other wolves started filing out, Kamiya was blocked, but she had to take them all out anyway. Reminding herself of the things she had witnessed, how every member of the pack had partaken in their bloody sport, she fixed her sights on the closest one, and pulled the trigger.

She had practiced with this rifle, or the recoil would have knocked her right out of the tree. The wolf, though, went down without a fuss.

It was a good plan. Silver bullets. Silver-protected high ground to shoot them from. It should have worked, except she hadn't counted on two things.

First, how fast the wolves were, even in human form. When the first of their number fell down, they were shocked. When the second went, they turned and charged at her. They might have looked human, but when they sprinted, it was clear they were anything but, limbs moving at unnatural speeds, spines hunched forward, as if their hands yearned to return to the ground. She missed her next shot, and only managed to get one more before they were all right underneath her tree, howling unnaturally up at her from human-shaped throats.

Second, how strong they were. She knew the silver wire wouldn't keep them off the tree forever, but she'd expected to have more time to pick them off from above. Instead, Kamiya charged right into the tree, making it shudder as he slammed into it, shoulder first. Sure, he snarled in pain, and there was a hissing sound—his body was starting to burn where it came into contact with the silver. But a small impact at the base of the tree amplified into the branches, and Mamori had to scramble to hold on to both her gun and the branch swaying wildly beneath her.

She didn't have much time left. 

She fired another shot as the others transformed into their beast form, and charged the tree too, successive hits that threatened to tear the oak from the ground, roots and all. They were yelping and hissing, pelts scorching against the silver, but it did nothing to dampen their determination.

In the end it was the tree trunk that splintered and cracked, sending the whole thing crashing down to the forest floor. Mamori landed in a thorny cushion of leaves and branches, stunned by the fall, and the pack was instantly upon her. She knew she had to pick up her gun, but she couldn't get her limbs to respond to her. She had so many backup plans—one in her purse, one strapped to her leg—but she didn't have a backup for a body that was too injured to move. 

Kamiya got to her first, and seemed about to dive onto her, before he reared back, snarling. She couldn't figure out why, until she remembered the little silver bat hung around her neck. Before she could gather herself enough to take advantage, reach for her gun, he laughed in her face. Grabbed the necklace and tore, hand sizzling where it made contact, until the chain snapped, and he was able to throw it aside. 

That done, he began to change. The short, boyish figure went through an instant growth spurt, gaining height, and mass, and fur all over. Through his transformation—face extending into a pointed snout, monstrous body shredding through his clothes—the scar on his nose remained in place. 

So this was the end, she thought. She had taken out a few wolves with her, that had to count for something. 

Naturally, that was when Hiruma flew in. There was the suggestion of leathery wings flapping behind him, but it all happened too quickly for Mamori to see. By the time she spotted him, he was just there, wingless, gliding down like a murderous Mary Poppins, Mamori's borrowed umbrella held over his head.

He might as well have been dropped from thin air, to land right on Kamiya's back. Wolf and vampire rolled, equally animal as they snarled and clawed at each other. Somewhere in there, the umbrella went flying, and Hiruma's arm reached out instead for one of the branches on the fallen tree that she had so painstakingly wrapped with silver. He snapped it from the tree like a toothpick, wire and all, to cram through the werewolf's throat, cutting off a building howl. He always went for the throat. 

Some of the wolves, seeing their leader dead, turned tail and fled. A few loyal stragglers charged, but Hiruma got up and made short work of them, brandishing the silver-wrapped branch like a stake. Watching him fight, back turned to her, it occurred to Mamori that this was the best chance she had. The feeling was starting to come back into her arms, and it wasn't a good feeling—it hurt like hell—but she found her purse somewhere in the mess of branches and leaves, and her own trusty stake within it. 

Before she could get in position to use it, Hiruma had felled the last wolf, and turned on her, face contorted with bloodlust, eyes alight. He had the branch in his right hand, and his left was held with fingers pointed into a blade, nails bloody and covered with gore. It was hard to say which hand he'd used more.

"You did better than I expected, hunter," he said, tossing the branch aside, and lapping the blood from his nails. "I honestly thought they'd kill you. Best case scenario, you take out a few of them before you go down."

"Came to finish the job?" Her hand clenched around the stake, and his gaze fell on it, then off, dismissive. He knelt down beside her, holding down her staking hand with a deceptively light touch. She was sure if she tried to lift it, that touch would turn to a vise. 

"I didn't think I'd have to," he said. "I'm honestly shocked you're still alive."

And with that, he leaned down and kissed her, full on the lips. His mouth was cold, and tasted of blood, coppery and electric, as if she needed any reminder of the monster that he was. But against all reason, she found herself opening her mouth to it—whether the shock, or the adrenaline, or the heady rush of finding herself alive and whole when a moment ago she'd thought she'd be neither. She wrapped her free hand behind his head, and pulled him in, as if she couldn't get enough of him, and didn't recognize the soft moan she made when his tongue met hers. 

Eventually she had to breathe. She still wasn't sure if he did. When he drew away, it was like a spell broken, and she suddenly realized what she'd done. Sputtered and wiped her lips, shocked at her own behavior. "This isn't some... vampire thing," she said.

Hiruma rolled his eyes. "Last I checked, humans kiss too."

"No, I mean your... mind control... thing." Mamori struggled to sit up, and Hiruma actually helped, lifting the tree off of her with ease. "Like how you—Sena! The werewolves are dead, let him go!"

"Technically, a bunch of them got away, and I got at least half of what's left." But he pursed his lips and whistled sharply—and Sena appeared, shyly, from the underbrush.

"Sena, what are you doing here?" Mamori staggered to her feet, then rounded on Hiruma. "You brought him here? What were you thinking, putting him in harm's way?"

"Face it, hunter." Hiruma strode over to meet Sena, and touched him on the temple. "If you and I both died here, those fucking wolves would have hunted him down, whether he was here or tucked away in bed."

That wasn't comforting. 

"Are you going to release him or not?"

"Already did, fucking hunter, try to keep up."

She looked at Sena expectantly, and he shrugged, apologetic. "Um, I don't feel any different."

Grimly, Mamori slung on her purse. Looked around for the stake she'd just been holding, but couldn't find it. Picked up her rifle instead. Vampires wouldn't be harmed by silver, but a bullet had to be an inconvenience either way. "You promised," she said.

"Such a skeptic." Hiruma lifted his hand to show the stake he'd stolen from her, waggling it when she hissed.

"You took that when we— while we—"

The vampire pulled up his sleeve, twirled the stake in his hand, and drew a cut down his inner arm with its point. "Show her."

Sena rolled up his sleeves too, and flipped his arms, to show they were unscratched. 

"See? No more blood bond." Hiruma lifted a brow. "What more do you want?"

"What about the hypnosis? You were... _influencing_ him."

"What? The feeding trance? Only lasts a few hours. Half a day at most. I didn't touch his fucking mind. What he did was all him."

Sena blushed conspicuously, which made Mamori wonder exactly what they'd done together. Then she wondered just how long Sena had been watching, and found herself blushing in turn.

"You know, hunter, we made quite a team. Your brains. My strength," Hiruma smirked, "and brains. And when you get all beaten up like this, I can come patch you up." He offered his bloody arm to her, and it took her a moment he meant for her to drink it. 

Revolted by both offers, she turned her face. "You can't seriously be suggesting that we work together."

Shrugging, he pressed his thumb to the cut, and then seemed to wipe it away with a single swift motion. Soon there was nothing left but a bloody spot on his thumb, which he licked off. "I won't even take a hostage this time. You let me know."

As he stepped away, Mamori hastily pulled Sena towards her, placing herself between them.

"Oh, almost forgot." Hiruma turned and tossed something at her, which she caught on reflex. It was the bat charm on its chain, looking rather worse for wear. He must have pulled it out of the rubble during the fight. She should really throw it right back, but for some reason, she found her fingers closing over it.

"Better hang on to that. You never know when another pack of fucking wolves will want to move in to town."

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings:  
> 
> 
>   * Descriptions of blood, injuries causing bleeding, and consumption of blood. 
>   * A character is occasionally implied to be under the hypnotic influence of another. 
>   * Several on-screen deaths, including of a named but minor character. 
>   * Reference to off-screen animal death.
> 



End file.
